Stitches
by WildRelapsedCreature
Summary: Meet Stitches. Joker's new competition. -Rated T for swearing and violence-
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Dark Knight or any of its characters. I only own Stitches. Any of the story line that seems familiar, I most likely do not own.**

 **AN: Yes, Stitches is similar to Lily from my CreepyPasta story. THEY ARE NOT THE SAME. Just, similar.**

BREAKING NEWS

"There's a new evil wreaking havoc on Gotham City. She calls herself 'Stitches.' stay away from her at all costs. This girl might just give the Joker a run for his money."

"Wow. That's really not a good picture of me, don't you agree?"

A girl standing at around 4' 11" smirked, glancing at her captive. Her captive nodded fervently. The twenty or so year old was sitting tied to a chair. He had cloth and tape over his mouth. The only sounds that came out were muffled. He was terrified of the figure before him. Anyone in his place would be. Including you.

For this figure, was the self proclaimed Stitches.

She had shoulder blade length, choppy black hair with red and purple streaks throughout. Her stature was small and lithe. She had muscle, and was not a force to be reckoned with. She was trained in hand to hand combat, archery, gun/weapon use, and explosives. But her very favorites were knives. Knives, swords, sharp things of any sort. She had long knives crossed on her back. You could see throwing knives along her waist. If you didn't pay attention, you'd think that this was all she had.

But that's the key word isn't it? Think.

She was dangerous. She was insane. Psychotic. Bonkers. Confused. Off her rocker. The list goes on. And I promise you she's heard it all before.

But the most terrifying thing of all, was her actual stitches. No one knew her backstory. It was like her record never existed. Along her right cheek from the corner of her mouth to her cheek bone, it was cut and dotted with dried blood. Stitches ran along the cut. They were messily done, most likely put that way on purpose. Across her left temple, was a two inch cut with clean stitches through it. On her left cheek down her jawbone, was a jagged scar. No stitches, just the scar. She wore green tinted goggles on her head. She had on a black and white sports bra, a solid black muscle shirt, black cargo pants, and clunky black biker boots. On a chair rested a black leather jacket with chains and zippers.

"We're going to play a game!" Stitches grinned.

The man furiously shook his head no.

"Awe no it'll be fun. Trust me."

Stitches had a maniacal grin on her face. Her stitches made it all the more terrifying.

"Your objective is to keep yourself alive, but holding on for dear life!"

Stitches produced a grenade from one of her many pockets.

"Such fun! Aren't we having fun? This Joker character will soon catch a glimpse of his competition. Life's no fun without risk and entertainment? Like you for example! Have fun! Toodles!"

Stitches waved her fingers and exited the room, pulling on her jacket as she did so. The man sat there with the grenade clutched tightly in his hands bound behind his back. If only he realized.

The grenade wasn't truly a grenade. It was a time bomb.

Stitches left the building into an alleyway. She climbed into the back of a van.

"Let's go." she called to the driver.

Once they were driving away, she pressed a button on a remote.

"Boom." she grinned.

Fire blazed the sky. The apartment building, no more.

Stitches had continued to raise chaos and disorderly conduct.

Just as she had been raised to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Dark Knight or any of its characters. I only own Stitches. Any of the story line that seems familiar, I most likely do not own.**

In a warehouse abandoned for years, the figure of Stitches stood all alone. The men she had, were dead. Killed, wasted from this world. She stood there, taking in the air. She would have to find a plan for chaos. For what is a world without some form of chaos? Stitches walked out of the main warehouse to her room. She pulled off her muscle shirt and placed her knives by her mattress. Standing in her black and white sports bra, she threw her shirt into a wastebasket. Keeping on her pants, bra, and boots, she put her leather jacket on the chair next to the vanity. Rows of black eyeliner, mascara, black lipstick, and black face paint covered the vanity's surface. Stitches put her palms on the table surface and looked in the mirror. Her thick eyeliner was smudged and messed up. Pulling up the chair, she sat and swiped over each eye with a makeup wipe. Trashing the wipes, she looked at her cleaned, stitched face. She needed to change the stitches. If they got infected, that wouldn't be fun. Standing up, Stitches went to lie down on her mattress. She put her blanket over her body and put an arm behind her head. Sleep plagued her head and she drifted off.

Three figures were creeping through the warehouse.

"Ok. Which room is her's?" one whispered.

"Not sure. But be quiet! Boss said she was a good fighter. We need her to stay asleep." another one snapped back.

The three bodies padded through the warehouse. They looked through the doors of every room they passed. Finally, they peeked into a room that had a body under the sheets. The first person stepped foreword to pull back the covers while the other two drew their guns. He pulled back the sheets as quickly as possible.

"What the hell?" one of the men groaned.

There was a blow-up doll sitting under the covers. Two silenced gunshots hit their intended targets. The two men with their guns drawn hit the floor, their last breaths already spent. The last one stood still for a moment, deciphering what he should do next. He slowly moved his hand towards the gun at his side.

"Ah, ah, ah. Hands up." a voice chirped.

The man quickly whipped his gun out and began to turn around. One, two, three shots into the shoulder, causing the man to drop his weapon. He fell to his knees, gripping his wounded shoulder. He looked up to see the form of Stitches standing over him. The man took in a gulp of air, feeling panicked. If his Boss wasn't scary enough, then she definitely was. He didn't even come to think about how pitiful it was that he was afraid of a woman. A short five foot two woman at that.

"Get up." she growled.

The man scrambled to his feet.

"Walk."

He stepped over the dead bodies of his fallen comrades and was led to the center of the warehouse.

"Turn around."

Stitches turned on a light. The man turned to face her. She looked amused.

"Your boss, who is he?"

"We don' have a boss." he swallowed thickly.

"Uh huh. Sure. Sweetie, lying won't do you any good. For one, I'll always know when you're lying to me. Two, you're held at gunpoint with bullets lodged in your shoulder, I don't need you to find the information I want and need. You just make it easier. Lets try this again. Who's your boss?"

"The Joker!"

"I knew it. Men just can't stay away can they?"

The man fidgeted.

"Guess what you get to do! Take me to the Joker."

"Wh-what?"

"Isn't that what you wanted to do in the first place? Gimme a sec to put on a shirt since three bozos decided to come to me in the middle of the night."

Stitches pocketed her gun and turned to walk away.

"Oh. Don't try calling anyone or running away. Then I'll actually be mad at you. Consider yourself lucky, you're not dead."

She left the trembling, sad excuse for a man in the light. He kept pressure on his injured shoulder. Meanwhile, Stitches had stepped over the bodies in her room.

'More corpses to take care of.' she thought, grumbling.

Sitting down at the vanity, Stitches quickly traced thick, black eyeliner around her eyes. She stroked on mascara and applied black lipstick. Standing up, she pulled on a black tank top and shrugged on her jacket. Checking her goggles, she slipped on fingerless biker gloves and went to find bozo #1. He was still shivering where she left him, still standing purely from the fear of being killed.

"I'll drive." she announced.

Bozo opened his mouth, but Stitches shot him a look. He was pale from blood loss. He'd pass out if the wounds on his shoulder didn't clot up. Stitches knew enough about medicine to know that he'd be fine. Digging out the bullets would be the worst part.

"On the bright side, you'll have stitches like me." she grinned.

Bozo swallowed nervously and handed her the van's keys. She jumped into the driver's seat.

"Hand me a mask like yours." she ordered.

Bozo complied and she slipped the mask on. She was then handed a jacket.

"Ooh. You learn fast!" she slipped on the jacket to hide her attire. After pulling on a beanie and hiding her hair, she started the car and pulled out.

"Let's go."

Bozo unhappily directed her to the Joker's whereabouts. Hopping out of the van, she 'helped' Bozo.

"One word, and I'll cut your tongue out and pry off your fingernails." she harshly whispered into his ear.

He yelped when she dug her fingers into the bullet wounds.

"Understand?"

Bozo rapidly nodded his head.

"Good."

She threw his arm over her shoulder. Kicking open the door, she took note of the other figures. No Joker.

"Damn, what happened to you?" one of the guys snickered.

"The bitch shot me." Bozo grumbled.

Stitches tightened her grip. Bozo held back a flinch.

"She kicked your ass didn't she?" another one piped up.

"Did she get Anger?" one asked.

"How are you not hurt Happy?"

Stitches shrugged.

"You gonna talk?"

"Sh-he got hit in the throat."

Bozo went over to the couch and flopped down. Stitches leaned against the wall.

"Where is she?"

All of the men in the room tensed up. The Joker sauntered into the room.

"Well?"

"Uh. Uhm." Bozo stuttered.

The Joker turned to 'Happy.'

"What happened?"

Silence.

"Hello!"

The Joker came over and stared down at 'Happy.'

"Y'know, you're a lot shorted than I remember."

"Fuck off." Stitches pulled off the mask and jacket.

"She put me up to it boss! I-"

Before anyone could move, Stitches had pulled out her gun and had directly shot Bozo in the head.

"Kitty got claws." Joker grinned.

"Kitty's gonna use a lot more than her claws if you don't tell her what she wants to know." Stitches now trained her gun on the Joker.

"I had a vision."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Dark Knight or any of its characters. I only own Stitches. Any of the story line that seems familiar, I most likely do not own.**

A man stood on a corner with a mask and a bag in his hand. He was waiting for the van that pulled up in front of him. Pulling on the mask, he got into the van next to a girl with black hair and a black and red dress. She had a masquerade type mask on. It was done very nicely, yet it still covered her whole face. An aura of mystery revolved around her. The man from the corner started to pull out guns so he could check them to make sure they were all done properly. As he was messing with the guns, the girl was twirling a knife and observing him. The van stopped in front of a bank. The four got out of the van and marched inside. The girl took her knife and tucked it into her waistband as she drew a gun. They barged into the bank, weapons drawn and ready. One of the clowns shot his gun in the air.

"Everybody down!" one yelled, "Hands up, heads down!"

The band of robbers forced the innocent civilians down on their knees. The girl was running around shoving grenades into all of the civilians hands after pulling a pin.

"Now, we obviously don't want you to do anything with your hands, other than holding on for dear life."

"Let's play a game," the girl began, "Whomever let's go, dies first! I guess its more fun for us than you, but, you know how the world works."

BOOM. A shotgun rang out, shooting one robber down and dead.

The remaining three quickly ducked into cover as the bank manager shot round after round.

"Do you know who you're stealing from? Huh? You and your friends are dead!" he yelled.

"He's out right?" one of the men asked, referring to the amount of shotgun rounds left.

The other male nodded his head. Once the robber stood up, BAM, and a cry of pain. His accomplice reacted quickly, standing and shooting the bank manager, making him fall injured, but not dead.

"Where did you learn to count?!"

The three idled together as they waited for one of the other men on the inside to bring out the money. Once he did, he was shot dead. Gun up, the injured robber aimed at the man.

"I'm betting the Joker told you to kill me as soon as we loaded the cash."

"No, no, no, no. I kill the bus driver." the man sighed impatiently.

"Bus driver? What bus driver?"

As soon as the last word exited his mouth, the wall crumbled down, revealing the back of a yellow school bus.

"That bus driver." the girl snickered.

The said man climbed back out of the emergency exit and helped the remaining two load the rest of the cash.

"School's out, time to go. Guy's not getting up is he? That's a lot of money. What happened to the rest of the guys?"

The final man shot him, ending his life that day too.

"Criminals these days. I remember when you used to have defiance. Respect." the bank manager groaned from the ground.

The leftover duo approached him.

"What do you believe in huh? WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE IN?"

The man shoved a gas bomb into his mouth before taking off his mask, causing the bank managers eyes to go wide.

"I believe, that whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you stranger." the Joker grinned a maniacal grin.

The female took her mask off too, revealing the most fear female criminal in all of Gotham.

Stitches and the Joker got onto the bus. The plan was fool proof, joining the long precession of school busses heading home just as the police showed up, leaving no possible time for a warning before the feared two were gone without a trace.

* * *

 _"Recently when the Gotham City Bank was robbed, revealing the two most notorious crime leaders in the city. The Clown Prince of Crime and the Acrobatic Puppet, now working together? What could this mean for the citizens of Gotham city?"_

Stitches rolled her eyes as the news report, switching off the TV. It was another one of a few dozen after robbing the bank a few days ago. The warehouse she resided in with the Joker was bare without henchman to take her temper out on. Just until the deal was over, she tried to keep reminding herself. The sooner their plan was done and executed, the sooner she could disappear forever without a care in the world. Stitches turned, throwing the remote on the battered, torn sofa. She ventured to the Joker's room, leaning against the door frame and crossing her arms.

"Well?" she asked.

The Joker looked up from his task.

"Are you happy?"

"With wha _t_?" he grinned, adding an extra emphasis to the T.

"Need I remind you that I work very, very, differently than you do Joker and if action doesn't occur, then I might be forced to take matters into my own hands." she growled.

"Now, now. Patience is a virtue kitten."

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"The time will come. Go entertain yourself." Joker said, completely ignoring her clenched teeth and forced words.

"I am not your slave nor your dog."

"No, but who's counting?"

"You're crazy."

"No. I'm not. I'm no _t._ "

With this, the Joker stood from his desk. Both crime leaders glared one another down. The Joker was a good foot taller than the smaller figure of Stitches, but both looked threatening nonetheless. Stitches stepped closer, baring her teeth.

"What are you going to do? Kill me? Or growl and hope I die from fear?" the Joker's voice, once playful, was now dry and icy.

"You watch your step. Just because-"

Before Stitches could finish, the Joker attacked and threw her at the wall. Pressing her up against the wall, her head was turned as he kept her pinned. A growl tore through the female's throat. She used her leg to kick directly behind the Joker's kneecap. He faltered for no more than a second, but that's all she needed. Shoving him away, she clenched her fists. The Joker, equally as angry, was obviously as tense and annoyed as she was, wanting to go and create the chaos they were born to do.

"Don't forget sweets." the Joker spat out the last word, "You still need me to do what you want. I. Don't. Need. You."

Stitches deep down knew he was right, but she wasn't going to back down from the man she hated the most on the planet. Stitches was many things, stubborn as a bull was one of those things. As odd as it was, Stitches felt a twinge of hurt when the Joker said he didn't need her.

"Then why keep me around?" she snapped back.

The Joker erupted into maniacal laughter, easing up his stance.

"You're too easy." the Joker snickered.

"I'll kill you clown. One day, somewhere, I will kill you." Stitches seethed.

Not wanting to bruise her knuckles from beating the living daylights out of her favorite pain, she stomped back to her room like an angry child.

Both criminals had a vision, but both these visions were insane and almost impossible to achieve. I believe that's why they fought so much. The end goal was similar, but the path to be taken was viewed differently. Maybe it was just the insanity running its course, but Stitches still thought and thought. Giving an irritated huff, she plopped down on her makeshift bed with a book, intending to calm herself down for another match down with the Joker later.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Dark Knight or any of its characters. I only own Stitches. Any of the story line that seems familiar, I most likely do not own.**

 _THUD!_

The sound of a knife hitting wood echoed through the empty walls, the sound bouncing off of the stone. Stitches was at one end of the warehouse while her target was at the other. Lightning fast, she took out another knife and threw it with as deadly accuracy and precision as the first one. Pacing the length of the warehouse, she yanked both knives out of the wall. Putting them back in their sheaths, she retreated to her room, intent on going out to do some plotting.

Her keys jingling was what awoke the Joker from his nap. Growling under his breath, he went to go figure out what his female counterpart was doing.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Outside. Since when do you care?" Stitches snarked.

"Are you just insane or just plain stupid? Are you trying to get us caught?"

"You're calling me insane? Hypocrite."

"Don' _t_ change the subject. We move tomorrow."

"You expect me to wait even longer?"

"Expect, yes. Believe you will? No. If you walk out those doors and get caught, I'm not coming for you."

"Are you insulting me?"

"Simply proving a point."

"Oh fuck you. I'll be back later dumbass."

Stitches stormed out of the warehouse, no clear destination on her mind. It's quite entertaining don't you think? The two minds, even the most alike, fight more so than those who are complete opposites.

The Joker grumbled and began to look at his plans. He had a set goal, yes, but a chosen path to get there? Ehhh. It wasn't necessary for the Clown Prince of Crime.

Stitches had found a bar, and went to get a shot. Heads turned to look at her, some in fear, others in wonder. Some were just too drunk to register that the most wanted female criminal of Gotham was sitting in that bar with them. The thoughts in the psychotic female's head began to twist and turn.

 _"- though proving to be doing good, speculators still want to know, who is the Batman?"_

Stitches froze mid drink. Chaos. How to create a perfect world of chaos. The Batman. That one common goal. He was the obstacle, but the solution, which was once so foggy it wouldn't appear, was now as clear as day.

Expose the Batman; create a city full of fear and wonder.

Stitches stood to leave the bar, a maniacal grin on her face. She giggled under her breath.

"No Batman, no savior. What city can have hope if their image is exposed and ruined? Every rebellion needs a symbol of war."

Thinking quickly, Stitches ran back to the abandoned warehouse, anger vanquished, now replaced with a new desire. A new plan, a new sense of satisfaction.

"Joker."

"What?" the man grumbled, not turning to face her.

"I have a question."

"Which is?"

"How do you lead a war without your symbol of hope or reason?"

The Joker paused what he was doing, "You don't."

"Exactly. You want Gotham to completely fall? Whether in your hands or into the ones of chaos? Don't kill the bat, expose him. What is an army with out their thing worth fighting for?"

The Joker's face split into a wide, crazy grin, "Aren't you clever kitten?"

"Don't call me kitten." Stitches hissed.

"Look! You even act like a pussy cat."

Baring her teeth, Stitches growled like a feral animal.

"Oooh animals now are we?"

For the second time that day, the Joker had pinned Stitches to the concrete wall of the warehouse.

"Who's the animal now?" Stitches snarked, not in the mood for physical fighting.

"Now, now, now, I didn't say I, I said we. There's qui _t_ e a difference."

Both Stitches and the Joker realized how close together they were, but out of sheer stubbornness, neither backed down from the challenge.

"What's wrong? Did the jester finally run out of tricks?" Stitches taunted quietly.

"A bad joke? Two psychotic chaos employees are in a house."

"Sounds like a bad joke."

"That would make us the punchline sweets."

Lips crashed into one another as the two closed the gap between them. Their kisses were feverish and rough, not caring about damage or another annoying worry. If you really wanted to make this so super cheesy, then, go ahead you dirty minds. But this isn't your usual "love" story.

Two psychotic patients were in a house.

One had stitches, the other had scars.

The wounds that would never heal were in fact internal wounds.

Two psychotic patients were in a house.

Pressed together against that house, they almost made for the perfect ending to a perfectly damaging tale.

But this isn't over.

No, not yet.

For what chaos had truly been caused? Some people say that absence makes the heart grow stronger, but what about those who were already mentally absent?

My point exactly.


End file.
